Sacrificial Rites
by fieldagent85
Summary: Lex expresses his concerns to Martha about her relationship with his father after the incident with masked man Lincoln Cole.


The day after she had been kidnapped and tortured by one of Lionel Luthor's many rejected employees, Martha Kent was instructed not to go into the office. She was encouraged to recuperate, emotionally, and put aside all pressing senatorial business. As kind as this was, Martha was had never been one for leisure, especially not after marrying a farmer. As she sat at the kitchen counter, going over several polling samples and charts, she began to wish that she had an office somewhere in the house. She had just gotten around to contemplating exactly how she would decorate her imaginary office when a once familiar figure appeared at the back door.

He knocked once or twice before poking his head in, offering her a congenial smile. He was a man who had brought both trouble and joy to her family, but for one reason or another, she had always looked forward to seeing him. She had always seen the good in him, through the bad, and even now, knowing the problems her son was experiencing with him, believed his former self still existed within his new exterior.

"Lex," she greeted him, with a smile.

"Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Kent."

Martha shook her head. She knew he had started calling her Mrs. Kent due to his friendship with Clark, but Lex had always been well within reason to call her Martha, should he have chosen to.

"No, no, come on in." She gathered her papers together into a pile and pushed them to the side, then stood. "Are you looking for Clark?" In the last year or so, Martha had never been quite sure of where the relationship between the two actually stood.

"Actually, I'm here to see you," Lex replied, closing the screen door behind him. "I was hoping I could speak with you about what went on yesterday."

Martha froze, immediately assuming Lex's visit had something to do with Clark's secret, which was becoming increasingly difficult to keep under wraps these days, and she was well aware of Lex's incessant curiosities on the subject. "What about it?" She leaned against the counter to create a casual air.

"Specifically, my father."

Martha breathed a silent sigh of relief and felt her muscles loosen and her nerves calm considerably. "Oh."

"I'm not going to lie to you, Mrs. Kent," Lex began, plunging his hands into his pockets to create his own aura of nonchalance. "I'm concerned. This...bond you seem to have forged with my father can, and likely will, be detrimental to you both personally and professionally. I can't imagine you're unaware of the potential implications, you've always been highly astute, which is why I'm a bit troubled by all of this."

Martha squinted, studying him carefully. "Lex, I don't know what you're under the impression of our relationship consists of, but..."

"Oh, I know exactly what it consists of. I know my father. And I know precisely how he feels about you."

She rolled her eyes, placing on her hip to emphasize her skepticism. "Lionel and I are friends."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Kent, but I simply refuse to believe that you could be blind to something like this. Lionel Luthor has never risked his own life for _anyone_, not even his own son. And not only did he risk his life, he was willing to sacrifice himself for you. I don't believe for a minute that you don't understand the gravity of what that means." He paused, searching her facial expression for answers. "To switch gears for a moment, I will say that you seem to have had more of an influence on him than he has on you, which you should consider a personal achievement."

Martha shrugged. "Your father hasn't changed, Lex. But he _is_ trying."

"Yes." Lex nodded, in his all knowing manner. "He's trying for _you_, Martha." At this, Martha looked up, her eyes meeting his. He smiled, then began slowly pacing the floor of the kitchen as he spoke. "And while we're on the subject of trying, you should know, if you don't already, that he's been trying for you for years. From the day you began working for him, I could see the difference, in his attitudes, in his actions. What little good there is in my father, you bring it out in him. Though I'm not entirely sure exactly what it is he brings out in you."

Martha, now quite thrown for a loop, turned away, avoiding eye contact. "He's...very helpful. Sometimes I hate myself for thinking it, but I don't know if I would be able to do this without him."

"I know how important it is to have someone in your corner," Lex answered, moving in her direction. "I just hope you're not letting your...loneliness dictate your actions."

Martha frowned, turning to face him sharply. "I'm not lonely, Lex. I'm a widow," she responded, with a sudden bitterness in her voice. "I was married for over twenty-five years. I slept beside a man I loved very deeply every single night, and every day I woke up and shared my life with him. For twenty-five years we were practically isolated on this farm, it was him and me. All day, all night. And now that's been taken away from me. You think this is loneliness? Believe me, this - whatever _this_ is - by far surpasses any kind of loneliness you've ever known."

Lex nodded slowly, attempting to comprehend as best he could. "You're right. I apologize. And I don't doubt your motives are pure and your intentions good. But please understand, I'm here out of concern for you. You've always shown me respect and demanded the same in return. This is my way of showing it." He paused, considering whether or not he should continue with what he felt he should say. "My father is in love with you, Martha. Do with that information what you will, but pretending it isn't true won't help or change anything."

Moving toward the door, he smiled sheepishly at her, receiving a confused, distracted smile in return. With one last look in her direction, he opened the door and stepped outside. "Take care of yourself, Mrs. Kent."

There it was. With the return of the formalities came the all too inevitable return of reality. Martha knew that Lex was right. Unfortunately, she could think of no possible solution to the problem she had created for herself. As she sat back down at the counter and began spreading out the data charts once more, she again thought about her imaginary office and realized then that no matter how much time and effort she devoted to her work, no matter how much she focused on Clark or how many banquets Lionel Luthor escorted her to, she would never feel anything more or less than loneliness.


End file.
